Control
by of-ferrets-and-weaselettes
Summary: In a cold, deserted hallway, Draco finds the one he's missed for so long, the only one he'll ever love. What happens when she's more than he bargained for? Smutty DG est. rel. oneshot


His lips found hers in the darkness, a bruising kiss ensuing. She smiled against his mouth as she felt his tongue mingle with hers. No sooner had she answered his kiss was she up against the cold stone wall. Her hand tangled in his hair; she kissed him shortly, then nosed him away, millimeters of space between them. Even in the dark, his eyes were a glaring silver.

"Miss me much?" she teased sarcastically.

He smiled at her, that almost-sneer that made her heart jump and stomach sink.

"Pride is usually associated with a Malfoy."

"Maybe you're just a bad influence on me."

"I highly doubt that."

She quirked an eyebrow, desire-filled eyes brimming with coyness. Merlin, he loved those hazelnut eyes. "Really now?"

He skipped on his turn for a witty rebuttal and claimed her lips once more, drinking deep of her sweet, sweet kiss. She opened her mouth to him once again, her coos of pleasure his undoing. But it wouldn't do to be caught here, not now. Still he couldn't stop his hands from unbuttoning her blouse as he trailed kisses along the newly revealed skin. Both hands in his hair, she arched into him as he lavished the valley between her breasts with kisses. She was thinking the same thing he was.

"Take me somewhere."

Moments later, they were in the Room of Requirement. Thank Merlin and the Founders for this room. It was their escape. Here, nothing mattered but them. Here he could love. Here she could let him.

She surveyed the room as they entered; his arm snaked around her waist. The Room was never the same when they had their rendezvous. This time, a fireplace crackled with heat in the far left corner, a windowseat in the right. A large four-poster with green silk sheets and gold duvet was in the middle of the room, an Oriental screen to her right. Candles floated around the room; the only light in the space.

He stood behind her, pulling her closer by her hips. He moved the hair from the left side of her neck and kissed her there, knowing it was a sensitive spot. Her arm encircled his head as she smiled, a contended sigh issuing from her throat. He continued the assault on her neck and shoulders, pausing in the curve of her neck to nip at her skin, her flesh between his teeth. She moaned aloud. His hand cupped her left breast, kneading it roughly; she tensed against him, racked with desire. He would fill her tonight.

He whispered in her ear. "What do you want from me, Red? What this time?"

She thought briefly before turning into him quickly; her lips grazed his as she spoke, the word sweet on her tongue. "Control."

She flung him to the bed, but instead of following, she held up a finger as if to say, "One moment, please." She ducked behind the Oriental screen and he watched her shadow undress.

He mused about their times together as he waited, his school robes and shoes forgotten on the floor, leaving him in black pants, a white dress shirt, and his tie. Never once in their times together did they call each other by their names. In his mind, she was Ginny, but here, he called her "Red" or "Vixen" or whatever she decided was fitting with the theme of the evening. Never once had she called him Draco. Only Malfoy. He called her his lioness. She called him dragon. If she were mistress, he was master. An unspoken agreement to leave their names out of it, as if it made it more mysterious and easier to deal with.

This didn't stop their confessions of love. It was true, they did love each other. What they felt was a real as the harsh facts of the war. They could never really be together, not so long as Lucius used him as a pawn for Voldemort, and Ginny supported the Order. Only here could they be together. Only here were they truly complete.

Shaking him out of his thoughts was a small clearing of the throat, suggestive in its tone. He looked to see her wearing a black, lacy brassiere and boy shorts underwear to match. Her fiery red hair fell over her shoulders and into her face as she sauntered towards him. He immediately felt his blood rush southward, his every nerve heating with anticipation of skin-on-skin. He knew how well her curves molded to his hard planes, his mouth watered at the idea of her taste; how well they fit together...

"Mr. Malfoy, I hope you weren't expecting anyone."

He loved this game, knowing full well where it would lead. "Actually, yes. My girl's supposed to meet me here any minute."

She climbed onto the bed, crawling up to him with a predatory gaze.

"Your girl, huh? Too bad. I was hoping you could pencil me in."

"She's very jealous--"

She was straddling him now, playing with the shell of his ear with her mouth. "What would she think if she saw us like this?"

He struggled to keep his voice calm as she slowly moved down his neck. Agonizingly so. He broke the facade, he couldn't help himself. "I guess we'll find out. She's right on time."

She traced kisses up his neck and along his jawline. She laughed wickedly. "Oh, you'll find out all right."

She ripped his shirt the rest of the way open, charmed his pants off with her wand and slid the silver-and-green tie from his neck. Securing it around his wrist, she tied the other end to the bedpost. The shock on his face was deliciously raw; he'd never taken her for a bondage-whips-and-chains girl. Her own Gryffindor tie was hidden in her bra, she pulled it slowly from her cleavage, wrapping it around her hand. As she fastened his other wrist to the opposite bed post, she explained in a sultry whisper close to his ear.

"Tonight is about me. How I call the shots," her hand slipped below the waistline of his boxers and found his very-promising arousal. "How I," she closed her hand around him, smirking at his sharp intake of breath. "Handle the situation."

Her fingers swirled around his head, ensuring he knew exactly where tonight was going. His straining voice halted her ministrations.

"Look, Red--"

She captured his lips in a searing kiss, her delicate fingers threading through his white-blonde hair. As their tongues danced, she pressed herself against him, resting her weight on his body. She took his lower lip into her mouth, nibbling it to elicit a moan, called forward from deep within his throat. She lowered her mouth, trailing her kisses down his neck and to his chest. Her hands roamed his toned muscles, liquid fire extending from her every touch. Finally, they rested on either side of him as she covered his nipple with her mouth. She swirled her tongue around one before biting down unexpectedly; she snickered as he couldn't suppress a groan. Moving to the other, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, meeting his eyes briefly before continuing her tease.

This wasn't bloody fair. He strained against his bonds, his hands aching for the feel of her creamy skin. The purest form of pleasurable torture, that's what this was. Worse than the Cruciatus Curse. She looked too perfect; he was near falling apart and she was smirking at him. He wanted to do something; he wanted to mess her hair up. All coherent thought was lost as he felt her hands smooth down his abs to his boxers, sliding them over his legs, toned from Quidditch, in a feather-light caress. Not. Bloody. Fair.

He watched for her to slip off her own panties, but instead, her head crept lower. He realized what she was doing a millisecond before she began.

"Red--"

Her mouth closed over him as she placed teasing kisses on his manhood. She licked the tip of him, deceiving him in that she would continue the teasing as she drew him fully into her mouth, her tongue again with the swirling motion. His hips bucked up against her as her fingers traced patterns on his inner thighs.

"Sweet Merlin, Red, you're trying to kill me."

She gripped his thighs and slowly slid her mouth from him, moving back up to kiss him forcefully, then slipping her own underwear off. Without any warning, she positioned him at her entrance and buried him deep inside her, filling herself completely.

The moan that ensued was a duet, she unable to keep her desire unvoiced. He strained so forcefully against his restraints, blood flow to his wrists was cut off. She whispered to him, "Sit on your ankles."

He did as she commanded, feeling her move to have her knees on either side of him. Her head fell on his shoulder, arms looped around his neck as she rolled against him, riding him slowly at first, then increasing in speed. He matched her tempo as their bodies worked together, hips slamming against each other; her soft mewing moans were right in his ear as he filled her again and again. He placed his head in the curve of her neck and bit hard, licking at the bruised flesh.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of hard work, he slipped his wrists free of his restraints, his hands making quick work of her brassiere as he cupped her breasts forcefully. Her strained cry was mixed with frustrated speech.

"It's about bloody time, Malfoy, I didn't tie them tight on purpose."

He left one hand on her breast and reached the other between them, finding her clit with ease. To further his revenge, he flipped their positions, landing her on her back and he pounded into her repeatedly. His mouth moved to her right breast and played with the nipple, biting harder than he ever had before. Her ecstasy had come. She collapsed around him, every muscle contracting around his size, white fire behind her eyelids as everything in her convulsed. She cried out her release, spurring him to join her in the ride over the edge. Their worlds shattered together, they rode out the waves of pleasure simultaneously.

They both gasped for air as they came back to their senses, still joined, but their desire sated. mostly. He kissed her deeply, then slid out of her roughly. she shuddered at the sudden loss, only to find another warmth at her sex. Her eyes fluttered open to see him between her legs, tasting her most intimate places with his painfully skilled tongue. He laved at her opening then allowed his tongue inside her; her hands gripped at his hair, egging him on. He found the sensitive bundle of nerves and toyed with it with his teeth, finally biting down as his tongue continued its dance. Here he drove her to her second orgasm, even more exhausting than the first.

When she came down this time, she found herself in his arms, still only able to murmur a few words at a time.

"That was...bloody brilliant...Draco..."

It took a second for it to register in his head. He moved the hair out of her face and laid so he could look in her eyes. He kissed her softly.

"Say it again."

"What?"

"My given name. You just called me--"

"Draco? I know."

He couldn't help the smirk and joy-filled eyes as he asked his own question. "Why now? Of all the times we've been together, why is this the opportune moment to make it all real?"

A tear slid from her eye before she could stop its forming. "This is the only time we may get, Draco. No more games."

He took her fully in his arms, her hair plastering to his chest. "I love you, Ginevra Weasley."

"And I, you, Draco."

With that, they slept.

At the sound of the thunderstorm, Ginny was the first to awaken. The drafty castle was cold despite the fireplace, and she shivered slightly. Not wanting to rouse him just yet, she found his school robes, tied them loosely around her waist, and sat by the fire.

She sighed, stretching out to lay on the rug, hair fanned out behind her like a fiery halo. She turned her head and watched the flames dance in the fireplace. He'd be leaving soon. Not the room, it was only about one in the morning, and they were visiting Hogsmeade the next day. But this was his...Draco's seventh year. In no more than a few months, he'd be gone from her life. And not just that, but what if the war wasn't over by then? Would Lucius force him to become a true Death Eater? She breathed aloud. She'd just have to hope Harry had won by then.

She felt him lay beside her on the carpet and leaned into his embrace. He placed a few kisses in the hollow of her neck. She giggled at the sensations he caused.

"Hello, yourself," she told him.

He inhaled the sweet cinnamon of her hair before moving her against his chest, arm draped over her possessively.

"What's on your mind, Gin?" he whispered.

"You."

"And?"

"Pansy Parkinson."

"What?"

"Rumor has it you two have been quite the unofficial pair as of late."

"Yeah, well supposedly, Scarhead gave you Sirius' old mirror so he could see you and you look at it constantly."

"But I'm--"

"I'm keeping up appearances, too, Ginny. No need to get possessive. I love you, remember that?"

She looked in his eyes; brown met swirling gray as she whispered back, "I love you, too."

"See, no problems there."

She was silent for a moment, then snuggling closer. "What's going to happen when you're gone?"

"I knew you were worrying about something."

"I'm serious, Draco."

"I'm serious about us, Red. It won't be easy, and we probably won't see each other much, but we'll have the whole summer, and there's always Hogsmeade trips and Quidditch games--"

"What about your father?"

He held her closer. "He wanted me to find a pure blood. I did. He can screw himself, otherwise."

Her voice dropped even softer. "That's not what I meant. Your father and Voldemort."

He sighed, he knew it was coming eventually. "I'll probably have to hide a bit, my mother will help me. She may not approve of my actions in public, but the last thing she wants is to lose her son in this war. She's all but lost a husband."

"You'll have to be careful."

"I will. But the safest place to hide would be with you. Hogwarts is protected by the oldest magic, and he wouldn't dream of looking near the Burrow."

She smirked at this, drawing circles on his chest. "Mum would have a fit."

"Truth be told, I'm more of afraid of the Weasley men, particularly Fred and George."

They laughed together and let the subject drop. She found out what she'd needed to know. Platform 9 3/4 would not be her last time seeing him. He kissed the corner of her mouth, then moved closer to kiss her fully, suggestively. He begged entrance with his tongue and she opened her mouth to him graciously. The kiss was slow and sinuous, speaking volumes of unquenched desire. He broke away to whisper.

"This floor's hard."

"But if we move to the bed, I'll get cold."

He smiled at her, a genuine smile, lifting the corner of his mouth sexily. "I could remedy that..."

The only noise heard was the crack of the thunder. Ginny thanked Merlin for thunderstorms.

The next morning, they quickly dressed and headed to their respective common rooms, luckily without waking anyone. They pretended not to notice each other in Hogsmeade, or when the situation called for it, he'd sneer in her direction.

"Back off, Weasley."

"Stay out of my way then, Malfoy."

They were all none the wiser, for they all missed the wink and smirk he reserved for her alone. It was an invitation.

Fifteen minutes later, old superstitions about the Shrieking Shack were renewed again...


End file.
